The Night I Ended Up With the Whole Group at That Bar
I started writing again after a long time, so please be patient with me. This happened to me a few years ago, when I still hadn’t learned how to say no to almost anything. I’m a natural redhead, very fair, with skin sprinkled with freckles. I’m not thin, but I have long legs, and it was always my hair that drew attention first. The rest came later.
Back then I worked as a design intern in the marketing department of a farm machinery company. I’d been there a few months when my boss called me into her office and told me there was going to be an industry trade show in Texas, and that they were sending me to photograph the event. I’d be on my own: almost nobody had up-to-date visas, and the office was buried under work. The American brand representatives would be there, and I was supposed to report directly to them.
The day came. I packed thinking about the extreme weather, because they had warned me the temperature would top thirty-eight degrees. I put in a hat, lightweight flannel shirts, cargo pants, and hiking boots. A lot of people think that in that kind of heat it’s best to go around uncovered, but it’s exactly the opposite. For the night, when I wouldn’t be working, I brought a thin dress, a couple of blouses, and a short skirt. As underwear, only thongs and sports tops.
I flew all morning. At the airport a truck was waiting for me and took me to a chain hotel, one of those that aren’t luxurious but do the job, near several bars and restaurants. The next day, very early, the local people contacted me and came to pick me up. The day went smoothly, between work chats, photos of the stands, and people walking around the products.
Everything was fine, except for one detail I couldn’t ignore: every time I bent down to frame a shot, I could feel several of the men staring at my ass without even trying to hide it. They didn’t say anything, but those looks stuck to my skin. I got back to the hotel hotter than I wanted to admit, not knowing whether it was because of them or the desert heat.
I took a long shower and ordered something from room service. The next day, more of the same: the fair lasted two days and the second was almost a copy of the first. The difference was that my return flight wasn’t until the afternoon, so when I finished I had the whole night and part of the morning to myself.
***
After another bath that left me limp and relaxed, I decided to go out for a drink at one of the bars in the area. I got myself ready without much effort: I made two high buns in my hair, put on a flared black miniskirt, a short white top, one of my thongs, knee-high socks, and canvas sneakers. Truth is, I looked like an easy girl, and I liked that.
I left around seven, with the sky already darkening, and went into a sports bar full of young people. I sat at the counter and ordered a burger and a beer, but the bartender asked for ID. Embarrassed, I confessed I’d left my passport in the hotel safe. He laughed, told me he couldn’t serve alcohol without identification, and offered me a complimentary soda in an enormous glass, one of those ridiculous giant ones that only exist there. I felt ridiculous, but I drank it anyway.
When I finished the burger, I paid the bill and took the giant glass out to the terrace to get some air. A few minutes later, an entire table called me over. It was eight huge guys, all dark-skinned, muscular, and among them one very fair woman. They motioned for me to join them and, without thinking too much, I went. They gave me a seat beside her.
They were massive. The shortest was close to six foot three, and she wasn’t far behind: tall, long-legged, a little stocky, with enormous breasts. I felt tiny among them, almost miniature, and I liked that feeling in a way I hadn’t expected.
They started talking to me right away. They were intrigued by my accent and surprised when they found out where I was from. They asked why I wasn’t drinking and I told them about the forgotten ID. They laughed, told me their names, which I didn’t bother to remember, and their ages: all of them were around twenty-five to twenty-seven. The woman, who introduced herself as Dakota, was looking at me with a smile that was no longer entirely friendly.
—If you can’t drink alcohol —she said, leaning toward me—, we can still do something for you.
Before I could understand, she took a long drink from her cocktail, grabbed my face with both hands, and passed the liquid from her mouth to mine in a kiss. Her friends shouted with excitement. I should have pulled away in disgust, but far from it, it turned me on in a way that surprised even me. I swallowed every last drop and gave her back a tongue kiss that had me wet instantly.
This is getting out of hand, and I don’t want it to stop.
Seeing that I wasn’t scared off, the others joined the game. One after another they took a sip of their beer and passed it to me: some with a kiss, others spitting from above into my open mouth. We started making so much noise that one of them suggested we continue at his apartment, a couple of blocks away on foot. I agreed, already hot and dizzy on pure adrenaline. On the way they kept groping me and Dakota without the slightest restraint.
***
The apartment was spacious and surprisingly tidy. We all sat down in the living room and they brought more beer. I was about to take one when they snatched it out of my hand laughing, repeating that I wasn’t old enough for that. The game went on until one of them pulled down his pants, took out his cock, and told me I was definitely old enough for that.
It was huge. I didn’t resist: I took it into my mouth almost by instinct, barely able to take the tip. That finished getting everyone going. Three more pulled theirs out and started pawing at me and pulling down my thong, while Dakota knelt to jerk off the others. They stripped me completely, leaving me only my sneakers, exposed in the middle of the living room.
When I managed to get a little more of that cock into my mouth, the tallest one in the group said it was his turn, and that first I should get it nicely lubricated. What he pulled out was the biggest thing I’d ever seen in my life: thick, dark, veined all over. I got excited in a way that was almost shameful and my mouth watered. I sucked it with dedication while another guy got behind me and thrust into me hard. I screamed like crazy, and that scream gave the biggest one the opening to bury himself in my mouth. I was choking, but I didn’t care about anything.
The other two were masturbating off to the sides, fondling my breasts. After a while of taking turns, the eight of them decided to share Dakota and me at the same time. She got on all fours and ordered me to lick her. I obeyed without a word, knelt down too, and at that moment the biggest one took advantage of it to pump me from behind while he stuck a finger in my ass. Dakota was moaning and, at the same time, still taking care of the ones waiting.
All at once I felt her come against my mouth, filling me with an intense taste that I swallowed without hesitation. She collapsed on the floor, exhausted and trembling. I had already lost track of time and of the orgasms they’d pulled out of me one after another. I was euphoric, out of my mind, surrendered to whatever came next.
***
Dakota pulled herself together as best she could and announced that, since I was the guest, I deserved a gift. The condition was absurd and delicious at the same time: she would be in charge of collecting each man’s finish, and my job was to milk them all. As if they hadn’t already been on top of us for hours, they got worked up again. They laid me out on the sofa: one went into my mouth, another between my legs, and the biggest one, who had already stretched me open, lifted me and fucked me from behind from below, while the ones who couldn’t find room took my hands and feet to use me.
One by one they finished, but none of them did it inside me: they ran toward Dakota, who waited on her knees in the middle of the room with her mouth open. When one moved away, another immediately took his place, in a rotation that seemed never to end. The biggest one still didn’t let me go, still buried in me, holding out until the end.
When everyone had finished, he picked me up and asked me to suck him one more time, tapping me in the face with it. Ten minutes later he warned me he was about to cum. He went over to Dakota and poured an enormous amount into her mouth. Only then did I see, beside her, a glass pitcher where she had been spitting everything she’d collected from the others. I felt something close to envy.
Dakota lifted the pitcher and told me now it was my gift’s turn. I knelt in front of her. She took a sip and passed it into my mouth, ordering me to swallow and show everyone I had done it. Delighted, I obeyed again and again, until only a little was left in the pitcher, which she used to soak my clothes piled on a chair.
***
After that she took me to the bathroom, put me under the shower, and told me the guys wanted to piss, and that I’d earned that too for being so good. Two at a time, they pissed on my hair, my face, my whole body. Some grabbed my head and got into my mouth to do it directly. I took it all, lost in a mixture of humiliation and pleasure I didn’t know how to name.
When they were done, I looked at the time: it was seven in the morning. We had spent the whole night. I told them I had to get back to the hotel. The biggest one offered to take me, but Dakota ordered me to go like that, as I was, to just put my stiff clothes on and use the bathroom to fix myself up a little, without washing anything off.
I looked at myself in the mirror: a mess, sweaty, disheveled, with only one surviving bun. I looked awful and, even so, I loved it. I left with my clothes hardened, stuck to my body. Dakota said goodbye with a long tongue kiss and handed me a jar with what she had collected from everyone, as a keepsake.
The biggest one insisted on accompanying me. During the ride I sucked him in gratitude, and when we were about to arrive he warned me he was close. I took out the jar to add a little more, and in exchange I gave him the only thing I still had that wasn’t dirty: my thong, soaked with sweat. He left happy.
I got into the hotel almost sneaking in and slept for a couple of hours before the flight. When I woke up, I finally showered and thought that once I got home, the first thing would be to get every possible test done because of the complete lack of protection in that madness. I packed my bag and headed to the airport with plenty of time to spare.
I took the chance to sit in one of the terminal restaurants. I ordered something to eat and, as an intimate way of reliving the night, I remembered the jar that, by some miracle, had made it through security. I smiled to myself. That was, without a doubt, the wildest night of my entire life, and even today I still remember it every time I close my eyes.
